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[251] Fade, pomp of dreadful imagery
     Wherewith mankind have deified
Their hate, and selfishness, and pride!
     Let the scared dreamer wake to see
The Christ of Nazareth at his side!

What doth that holy Guide require?
     No rite of pain, nor gift of blood,
But man a kindly brotherhood,
     Looking, where duty is desire,
To Him, the beautiful and good.

Gone be the faithlessness of fear,
     And let the pitying heaven's sweet rain
Wash out the altar's bloody stain;
     The law of Hatred disappear,
The law of Love alone remain.

How fall the idols false and grim!
     And lo! their hideous wreck above
The emblems of the Lamb and Dove!
     Man turns from God, not God from him;
And guilt, in suffering, whispers Love!

The world sits at the feet of Christ,
     Unknowing, blind, and unconsoled;
It yet shall touch His garment's fold,
     And feel the heavenly Alchemist
Transform its very dust to gold.

The theme befitting angel tongues
     Beyond a mortal's scope has grown.

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